My story is going to come in existence in the moment when an old man mindlessly walks across the street and gets hit by a bus. Now start thinking about all of those words that describe such a horrific event. CRASH! BAM! CRUNCH! Now do not forget the screeching of the brakes since the bus is trying to stop itself or lets surely hope that is the case. It really is a weird place to start the sharing of a tale is it not? Well, if you must know, that ghastly moment begun at the same time for me as well.

As an aspiring writer, I like to travel all around the world for creative destinations that trigger new moods within me. The town that held my presence when the fragile man lost his life was when I was searching the hills of San Francisco for fresh people that contained new ideas. At the time, I was waiting for the bus one block north of the wilted fellow. Since he was in sight of where I was I noticed his full head of white hair, his deep Indian skin, and his carved cane that he tried not to use. While waiting for public transportation to pick me up and whisk me away to a new side of town, the man started on the path to the other side. My guess is that the driver was texting at the time. San Francisco has great culture but when it comes to the people, everyone is just a little bit off their rocker if you know what I mean.

For some reason, curiosity over took my body’s movements and instead of going to China Town like I originally planned I followed the ambulance to the hospital. When I walked into the emergency room my mind twisted in a way that I have never felt before. The people around were all competing in their own type of marathon as if they did not move fast enough someone would die, on second thought that actually may be the case. It would be lovely if you would forget about what I just said there.

Anyways, as I was saying, after noticing that everyone in my vicinity was bleeding, coughing, or sneezing I went to the front desk asking about the old man. At this point in time you would expect that they told me I could not get any information due to the fact that I am not a family member. You see I got lucky with that part since the young lady that helped me was new and did not follow any rule of the sort. She did something that I never thought anyone would do in a situation like this. Her name was Daisy, like the flower in springtime. It is a fact stuck in my head because I always thought how could someone with such a happy name work in such a dreary place. Being new and naive Daisy gave me all the room numbers to old men that came in within the past hour.

I traveled to three or four rooms and started to loose hope. Perhaps that maybe the guy really did die and knowing who he was will be a chance I never get to have. There was something that told me to not stop and by the sixth room I went into I found him. The fact that really told me that it was he whom I have been searching for was the beautifully broken cane in a bag lying upon the chair that sat beside him. From the talk of the nurses it sounded like he hugged the cane when he saw that he was getting hit. They found this out because of the bus driver stopping by and making sure he was still alive. Now that I think about it, it really is a terrible thought knowing he knew about the accident before it happened but due to his age he could not break away from the tragedy.

From looking at charts without anyone in the room I found out his name. Millard James Braxton is his full name and his body does not match it at all. He lied in front of me for about four hours until someone came in looking for him. It was his wife, Irene holding a cane that resembled the one in the bag. Her eyes shared the color of the sea and her hair was gray like the sky on a relaxing, rainy day. I could tell by the look on her face that she was surprised to see me there beside her husband of sixty years. To the best of my ability, I tried to explain to her all that had happen and why I was there. If you are still unsure why I followed him listen closely. You see I am the type of person that likes fixing people when they cannot help themselves. Something told me before the accident that he was broken and part of me needed to know what that was. Then with the thought that no one was going to be there for him I felt that it was the only way I that could help him in which I would want someone to do for me. Irene was a very understanding lady. I knew this because after I explained all of this to her she gave me the biggest hug any little lady could give. With a huge heart she thanked me over and over again for staying with him.

Millard’s medical state was the second subject we talked about and I knew that it really did not look good. He had been lying in front of me for the past four or so hours in a body cast looking absolutely miserable. According to the doctors he did not have much time to live due to the fact that he was eighty-two years old. His heart had been through a lot and it would refuse to take too much more. As most wives would break down into tears in the thought of losing her husband, Irene just dropped her head as if she saw a tragic event like this coming. Without really knowing what to do I decided I would just sit and watch for a while. The room became filled with silent air and everything became still.

Unexpectedly Irene looked up and asked why. Not knowing what her question was geared toward an uneasy feeling over came me and an odd expression over took my face. She then answered my look with saying, “Why did you think he was broken before he got hit”. My response was simple I said, “His presence was noticeable in way that only made me think in confidence that he was internally cracked”.

Irene slowly absorbed every inch of the hospital room as if she missed seeing one of the outlets her mind would never repair. Again, I just stood by observing all of the movements in the room. Anything from humming of the lights to the water dripping in the bathroom sink caught my attention. The petite yet strong woman before me glanced at me and said nothing more than four words, “You have no idea…” Her statement was very unexpected in my opinion and I know for a fact my face expressed that in many ways.

For being quiet for the duration of about two hours Irene suddenly started talking and when she started I knew there was no stopping her. She spoke the following without taking a breath or not one that I noticed.

“Maybe you were just at the right place at the right time today. I believe that if he were awake right now he would love every minute of your attention and from what I have seen today I know that you dear, have a very young heart that needs keeping. If you find someone that gives that job justice hold on to him or her. Since my early twenties Millard joked he needed to leave this earth first due to the reasoning of him being too far lost without my presence. Ever since I have walked in here today I have thought about that day underneath the summer breeze. It was one of those days that no matter how old you age your memory cannot let it go. This cane I hold in my hand may be the only thing left I have of him within the end of this. Millard worked for hours on them during our fifties. He always said someday our legs are not going to be as good as what they were at the time and as long as his hands worked he was going to make something magical. In his opinion the carvings in the wood expressed happier things than what Walt Disney ever could ever imagine. If I were a cat my life with the man that is before you would be my ultimate favorite out of all nine. From the way you were talking you made him sound weak and please understand now he is nothing of the sort. Millard Braxton fought in wars, watched people die, was burned alive, and so many more things that I know almost for a fact your mind cannot handle any of them. Do not call him weak when his mother left him for a man in Kentucky the day after he celebrated his fourteenth birthday or when his father passed away in a car accident trying to convince his mother to stay. You cannot stand there and act like you know him. He is not gone yet. I can feel his mind in the room not wanting to give up. If he does not leave here alive then neither will I.”

This story could end right here if I really wanted it to. It has the perfect amount of sadness and shock for a good cliffhanger ending. You know, I have watched a lot of “ television programs” as my grandmother would say it and if have grown to hate any part of them it is the last episode of every season. I understand that the writer would like it if the audience would return and watch another season but I cannot do that to people. As a deep thinker, I always wonder about the lives of people that the author kept rather open ended. In some ways it makes me want to write the endings to all of the suddenly stopped stories.

Subsequent to Irene’s speech I said nothing, it was something that at the time I believed was impossible to do. My heart ached with sadness in a way that was never experienced within me until then. For some reason, I believed I needed to stay strong standing in the middle of a tragedy with everything slowly breaking piece by piece. We both stood there watching a man that had dealt with many difficulties in his eighty years but refused to back down from the big scary monsters that hit home. Even though I knew only little about him he started to become a hero in my eyes. It is people like him that make the world strong in its hidden ways.



During the time Irene was talking I felt organs metaphorically collapse one by one within me. Knowing that this man has been through so much is mind-boggling. If you were burnt to a crisp you would die and look like deep fried fish. You would leave your breath at the site of the scene and that would be the end of you. It makes me wonder why the big cheese above or whatever you believe in chose Millard to live for forty years longer. This couple is rather mystical in that way. What I took from her thoughts that became words was that they have been to the dark side and back. His story seemed to have character and sadness. It is something that is rarely found and makes me thankful for my eyes drifting when they did.

Knowing that timing makes life unique is one of those things that happen to be really hard for me to swallow for some reason. Maybe on this day I traveled to China Town in the morning instead of the evening. My story would be about something different or maybe even nothing. Digesting this story on paper makes me mind freeze and stuck in the moment of the tragic scenes. Every movement becomes a little slower the more I reminisce and faster the tears fall. Perhaps for you to really grasp an understanding you have to experience it yourself. This is a situation that I would never wish upon anyone.

Unexpectedly, the hospital room door opened after a few knocks and walked in a being that resembled a doctor. As soon Irene and I looked up he announced that his name was Dr. Silverstein. I could not help but make a joke about how wonderful his poetry is. They both simply smiled at how I was trying to put a band-aid on the fragile hearts within the room. When the doctor began talking I lost site of everything around me and my head filled itself with smoke. After a while my attention was caught again when the phrase “Machines are more of this man than anything of what you knew before today.”

Most people would have responded by asking if they are any other options. Instead, I ran threw the door, down the hallway; down the stairs; out the entrance door of the emergency room and began to cry so heavily that I am sure any pedestrian thought I lost someone of my own blood and kind. I placed myself upon the sidewalk and hid the face that became blistered with my own rain. There were no reasons for this madness. My knowledge about him was very miniscule and I had no reason to crumble.

Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me that repeated my name over and over again,” Ella, Ella, Ella.” Very quickly I jumped up to see who it was and I stumbled backwards. Usually my balance would catch itself but this time I fell straight down on my bum in the middle of the street. The community bus that had just dropped off people at another entrance of the hospital drove over me without thinking once.

Now, I cannot help but wonder if there is someone thinking about what my story is like I happened to do with the old man Millard. For the sake of another life passing I wish that everyone stays in there places and looks over this cue from the director. Hopefully, Irene will stay strong without me for which my mess is too destroyed for any fixing that any master can ever accomplish.

To everyone that has watched my story, which just appeared before him or her, understand that I have come to your imagination in a dream. When you wake there will be nothing running in your mind and heart. A lost feeling and a vacant heart will be the only thing you have left.

My advice is simple so please listen closely. Hug the heart that keeps you going. Take that as ideally as you can, for which you may be hit by something catastrophic. Make this be the first day of you always viewing your life from the present day and never taking the time to look back to regret horrific events.